Drogar asked me for a summary of War Crimes for those who haven't read. You're all doomed, cuz it's me. SPOILERS of course, BUT this does put a cap on the lessons learned in Pandaria, AND leads into Warlords. If your character is there, here's how it goes down over ten very tense days...

Arkav tried not to talk often at work. For one thing, Master Krollos had drilled into him focus and silence when at the anvil. All attention must be on the metal and crystal, not on “needless chatter.”

The other reason, of course, was his stutter. It was just difficult to get ideas across, or even just work with others. He was already non-dwarven, and refused to drink alcohol on top of that, so the stuttering only helped make him a target for the younger smiths’ teasing.

Alynore sat on a small hill on the edge of the Halfhill farm, trying to meditate. Instead, she thought up responses to questions asked earlier, all those things one wishes had been said in the hot moment.

((So, Jormund sent me a writing prompt on tumblr ("How did you get in here?") and somehow it tangled up with the plot ideas percolating in my brain the last few weeks, so I'm going to toss it up and see what happens.))

The door to her apartment was ajar. Nore frowned and touched the blue button on her bracer, summoning her heavy armor. Wes wasn't in the city so it couldn't be him. As she stalked closer to the door it opened, revealing a semi-familiar face. They stood and blinked at each other for a moment.

((Technically happened two months ago, but it's been a bear to write. I have plot ideas though that may use this as background, so up it goes regardless.))

Alynore made the climb from the bustle of Lower City to Kamron’s apartment. A group of skinny brown orc youths paused their guttural conversation to watch the human woman as she stopped at the old soldier’s door. She knocked, counting the seconds to an answer.

Arkav stumbled out of the Stonefire Tavern, hands shaking enough that he couldn’t turn the ignition on his bike. He concentrated, sending a private call for help across the background chatter of the Link. It didn’t take long for the memories to intrude.

“Hullo, Miz F’Sharri,” the Argent flight handler smiled, taking the reins of Aerie’s grand gryphon. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

Aerie stretched, working out the kinks from the long flight. “It’s that time of year again,” she said. The sun was shining, but there was a chill in the air and clouds piled on the horizon, bringing with them the scent of an incoming autumn rain.